We Survive
by Mattycollns13
Summary: Sequel to Honey. Becky has a tag team match coming up at Fastlane. She is excited for it, her friend on the other hand...


Becky popped another crisp into her mouth as she watched the hotel room television. Or at least half watched it. She couldn't really keep up with the show that was on it, with Dean pacing back and forth in front of it. She rolled her eyes. He had been like this since he watched her segment of the show tonight. He'd just been twitchy at the arena, not wanting to make a big deal out of it. In the car, he'd just thumped his leg up and down in an annoyingly rapid-fire way that Becky had to deal with as she drove, and now that she was trying to relax in their hotel room on her bed with a snack, he was pacing in front of the television and not laying on his bed.

"For God's sake Dean, sit the hell down," she said for what may have been the millionth time.

And just like every other time he simply tugged at his hair and continued to pace, muttering to himself. Becky sighed, before gaining a devilish grin. She took one of her crisps and flicked it right into Dean's forehead. He squawked and fell on his ass in surprise. Becky pumped her fist in the air, bouncing on the bed in excitement. She laughed and pointed at him while he rubbed his forehead. "Headshot!"

He glared at her, like he had never done this kind of thing to her, which he had. "What the hell, Becky!?"

She giggled at him, watching him struggle to stand up. She pointed over to his bed. He finally listened to her and sat down on the edge of the bed facing her. She shifted her body to match his position and peered at him, her hand going to tug at a lock of her hair. It was a nervous twitch she sometimes still indulged, but there as no hair their to pull. Her hair was up in a bun so she could sleep, even though the bun never lasted the night and her hair would still be a tangled orange mess in the morning.

"You gonna tell me what's been bugging you?" She asked with concern laced in her voice

Dean's fingers twitched, he mumbled something under his breath. Becky glared at him, "Oh, yes. That," she said sarcastically.

She saw his shoulders rise and fall in a sigh and he finally looked at her. "Are you sure about this thing with Banks?"

Becky blinked at him, "You have a match with Roman and Lesnar and you're worried about Sasha Banks?"

Dean let out a hollow chuckle, "She's scarier than both of them combined."

Becky smirked, "I'll let her know you think that."

Dean pointed at her, "See that's what I'm talking about. You can't trust her and you've been saying shit like that since you guys made that alliance or whatever."

Becky frowned. Had she been talking like that? She thought through the last several days, and she had brought up Sasha more than she ever had before. She looked back at Dean who looked like he was going to be hit any second.

"Dude, it's okay. I understand why you're worried. Sasha can't be trusted. I get it, and I'm not blind to the risks of tagging with her, but I have to have some form of trust with her to work beside her and take Naomi and Tamina down."

Dean groaned, "I know, that's the worst part. Rationally I know all this shit, but my head keeps fuckin' me up and pointing out how many ways she could hurt you."

Becky chuckled, "Hey, I'm expecting it. It won't be like Charlotte or Paige. I know there is a distinct possibility she will turn on me after she's used me. But the thing is, there's a respect there. She may not want to admit it, but there is. Just look at you," he frowned, "You worked with John Cena last year. You can't stand him."

Dean ran a hand down his face, but nodded, "Yeah, I guess you're right. I just don't like the fact that you're taking unnecessary risks to team with a girl that has beat you down before."

Becky moved across the space between the beds and sat down next to Dean, she wrapped an arm around his back and put her head on his right shoulder. "I'll be okay. I'm a big girl, and I can do this. Plus," she smiled, "I've been hanging out with you and while normally you rubbing off on me would be a horrifying thought, you've taught me more about survival in this business than anyone." Dean smiled a bit so she continued, "You and I are survivors. We get beat down, but we come back stronger. Like cockroaches right?" Dean nodded, his face and body beginning to relax, "I'm gonna fight with Sasha and if she turns on me at the end, I'll come back and make her suffer for it, win or lose."

She finally took a breath after her rant, feeling a little sleepy as her head rested on his shoulder and they leaned into each other. She yawned, but said in a much more nonchalant voice, "You worry about Roman and Lesnar." She gave him a side eye, "And like you're one to talk about unnecessary risks, Mr. Jon Moxley."

Dean winced and chuckled, letting Becky knew he was out of his funk for now. "God, is this how you feel all the time with all my shit going on, and how little I think things through?"

Becky hummed, getting comfortable with her head nestled into his shoulder, "Pretty much."

Dean didn't say anything for a while. It was so long in fact, that Becky raised her head off his very comfortable shoulder to look up at him. His face looked horrified. She chuckled at his look and that seemed to snap him out of it.

His face still mostly in horrified awe as he now knew what she felt like with all his stupid shenanigans, "I need to get you a way nicer present for your birthday next year."

Becky let the sentence stand, before she hummed thinking about the 'Irish gift bag' he had gotten her. It had contained some actual stuff from home, but also things from what looked like a St. Patrick's Day festival and a box of Lucky Charms. She had been oddly touched and offended at the same time. "You really do. I'll send you the link to my favorite steampunk website."


End file.
